"I’ll set the alarm for 9:30," I said.
"You’ll wake up at 7," she said.
"Its 2am and I’ve been drinking. I’ll sleep past 10," I said.
The blanket fell to the floor in the overly air conditioned morning. As I picked it up, I looked at my phone. Exactly 7am. A little later, still shivering, I get up to turn the fan away from the bed. Then again to turn off the AC altogether.
I look at the clock again. It’s only 7:08. How did I spend thirty minutes struggling to fall back asleep in the span of only eight?
I glance at her. She’s snuggled under her comforter, as cozy as a slug in a mug. But I’m still not convinced. Whether through stealth, telekinesis or time travel, she caused that blanket to fall.
Or maybe some god just likes her better. I don’t blame him.